


national anthem (or the first time Santino sees Brian and not Katya)

by LovelyPlantPrincess



Series: fallen from grace [2]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: I don't know how they heard each other in the middle of a nightclub, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Past Prostitution, shhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyPlantPrincess/pseuds/LovelyPlantPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santino finds himself at Jacques Cabaret, learning more about the quirky and outlandish queen than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	national anthem (or the first time Santino sees Brian and not Katya)

**Author's Note:**

> In this fiction, even though I used Katya's real name, I still referred to him as 'she', seeing as I kept getting her and Santino's pronouns confused. Also, I use italics a lot and I am very sorry for that.

Santino finds a seat in the back of Jacques, blending into the crowd for the simple fact that he can’t afford to have fans have photo ops with him tonight. It’s a good place to sit anyways - he’s right next to the bar and close enough to the stage so that he can see Katya in her full grace.

She dominates the stage - as he knew she would, as only someone of her caliber possibly  _could_ \- and has the crowd dying of laughter the entire show. She makes up some faux story about recently coming from visiting her parents and the crazy shit they’d made her and her siblings do with them. It’s all a lie to quell the crowd’s suspicions of where she’s really been these past few weeks, but it’s brilliantly executed with her Russian accent and Santino finds _himself_ nearly believing the story.

She then performs an angry, upbeat song by Irina Allegrov and a song by Coco Brown that makes Santino blush into his glass.

Apparently, those are the only numbers she’ll be doing tonight, because she exit’s the stage and comes to find him thirty minutes later dressed as a boy. She wears a beanie that droops over her beautiful green eyes and a pair of khakis that hug her ass nicely. Even without padding, Katya - Brian, now - had one of the sexiest bodies and cutest faces on earth.

Santino shakes his head. Nope, this was just innocent drinks and talking. He wanted to truly get to know Brian, not just fuck her senseless and walk away with another notch on his bedpost. He did truly like _her_.

“Santino,” Brian grins, enveloping the other man in a hug. It lasts a tad took long, and

Santino can feel Brian’s nose in the crook of his neck. They pull away reluctantly and awkwardly. “Good to see you again.”

“You too. I ordered us some cranberry juice and vodka, if that’s alright?” Brian hesitates, her hand twitching. Santino rushes to recover, but Brian just smiles and sits across from the older gentlemen. He takes a tentative sip of the drink before pushing it to the side.

“That’s perfect. So… what brings you to Boston?”

 _You_ , Santino wants to say.

“Business. I had a few companies that I work with positioned here,” Santino lies with a shrug. “Quite the show you put on up there. You were _fantastic_.”

“Thanks but… it was only good because I’ve done it a million times before. Not to mention that I’m comfortable here at Jacques… these people _are_ my home,” Brian mutters. She plays with a ring on her right hand before shaking herself out of her head.

“Anyways, I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Same here. It’s nice to have a drink with someone who doesn’t want me for labor.” Brian laughs, tossing his head pack to reveal smooth pale skin. Santino has the urge to tinge his throat deep purple with bruises, and the thought is so sudden that it actually scares him a little. He barely _knows_ her.

 _You barely knew Ru back then too. And Michelle. And you slept with both of them,_ something at the back of his mind snarls.

 _Brian’s different though,_ he replies to himself. _Brian’s special, somehow. More important, as cold as that sounded._

“Santino?” Brian asks, reaching over to touch his hand. A jolt of electricity shoots up Santino‘s arm and into his spine. He subconsciously arches his back. “You checked out on me. You alright?”

“I’m fine, I guess you could say that I‘m a little tired. So, how long have you been doing Perestroika?” Santino stumbles over the last word and Brian grins at him before pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and glancing towards the ceiling to do mental math.

“Oh, gee, it’s been a long time,” she admits, drumming her blue painted nails against the sticky table. “Uh, thirteen years come next month, I think. Yeah, thirteen years.”

“Wow. So, I assume you’ve been doing drag for even longer?” Santino says, taking a sip of the cranberry and vodka. There’s too much vodka and not enough cranberry, and he wrinkles his nose at the taste.

  
“No… not _particularly_. Maybe just a year longer,” Brian frowns into her drink. She seems to be remembering something that she didn‘t want to remember, seems to be lost in her thoughts. Although he doesn’t want to pry, Santino raises his eyebrow and gestures for the queen to go on.

“I started out doing drag because no one wanted to have sex with eighteen-year-old Brian McCook but people would _pay_ to fuck twenty-two-year-old Katya Zamolodchikova. I did the whole prostitution thing for a _year_ before the owner found me stumbling out of some assholes apartment high off my ass with a broken heel. He took me in, showed me how to better myself as a queen - I have to admit, it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I was still… selling my ass and doing drugs but at least… at least I _belonged_ somewhere… I mean… I hadn‘t belonged since I left my parent‘s house to be on my own.”

“Anyways, Perestroika helped me get clean. For a long while I had _nothing_ better to do - I would perform high as shit and then go home and do more drugs and pass out and start all over again. And sure, as long as I didn’t do anything stupid while I was high, nobody wanted to fire me. I was nineteen, it was my very first legal job - they really didn’t want to put some kid back out on the streets. Diamond was the one that had the idea about Perestroika. She was the one that told the owner to give me a microphone and allow me to host a show. To host I had to be sober - I couldn‘t be numb during Perestroika, they needed me to have all my wits about me. It took a _long_ time - a _very_ long time - but… eventually, the cravings were less awful and I… I was motivated again. There were other things that played into my sobriety… like my parents declining health due to stress and worry and how much the addiction was actually _costing_ … but uh… I like to think Perestroika started me on the road to a better Brian. A better Katya.”

Santino nods, soaking up the information quietly before clearing his throat.

“I can’t say, I know how you feel or I can’t relate to your story because I’ve never battled with addiction. But I can definitely see that this show makes you - whether it be Katya or Brian - come alive. And I can understand how you would feel that it changed your life. I’m so glad that you had enough strength to power through and defeat your demons. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be the gorgeous, stunning, fabulous human being I see before me right now,” he says. Brian adverts her eyes, stirs her drink with her straw and fights a smile.

Talking about her path to sobriety and just how bad things were when she’d first started out had become easier as the days went by - it was becoming less and less of a horrid memory and more like a story thought up to give Katya the character a back story. But sometimes, just sometimes, it was nice to be reminded that what happened to her was very real and she still beat it. She still fought it.

It made her feel stronger and more powerful than her usual self-deprecation would allow.

“Enough of _that_ depressing shit,” Brian grins, taking Santino’s hand. Santino laces their fingers together and gives a light squeeze. “I know a really good takeout restaurant and I have a collection of Elizabeth Shue movies that are calling our name.”

Santino smiles at her, that same fond smile that seemed to make Brian feel safe and comfortable and at home.

“That sounds _wonderful_ way to end the night.”


End file.
